What is wrong with me? Seriously. I left the house this morning with three things on my shopping list: cheese slices, a chunk of Swiss and two onions.
This is what I came back with.
What is my problem? I’ll tell you what my problem is. I am a food shopping addict. I haven’t darkened the door at Macy’s in four years, but if I miss a single Saturday at the farmer’s market and beyond, I fall into an uneasy depression.
So, here’s how my thought process went this morning. Arrive at farmer’s market looking for onions. Pass James Gardner’s stand and realize I’m running low on eggs (as in, I only have a dozen left). Must buy eggs. Oh, and some darling tiny white radishes that are whispering to me. Two stalls down is Ralph Cole from West Wind Farms and he’s giving me this “come hither” look. Actually, I am imaging this because Ralph is quite shy. It’s his bacon that is calling to me. I respond and buy a package of stew beef as well because the nights are getting colder and we might just starve.
Next to Whole Foods, because I need the cheese. Apples. I could use some apples. And carrots. I’m out of carrots. On to the meat department because on the spur of the moment I’ve decided to make chicken with the onion gratin I needed the two onions for in the first place. Moral dilemma. Whole Foods grades the humane treatment of its meat. No. 2 is kind of humane. Chickens get to look outside a window. No. 3 better. They actually get to go outside. No. 4 they are permanent guests at a day spa. No. 4 is $22. No. 2 is $9. Sorry, Ms. Peep. I hope you have a nice view.
Cheese. Remember the cheese. Slices and Swiss ONLY. Oh, dear. What is that cunning block of pepper jack saying to me? Take me home. “Hello, Mrs. Mayhew,” says the Wensleydale Cheddar with cranberries. “I am only $17.99 a pound, but look how fetching I am!” I fetch a block. Salami. Salami would be very good with the cheese. How can I resist a Virginia-made applewood smoked salami with Sangiovese wine? I cannot.
I attempt to move toward the cash register when I notice the free samples of hummus. That’s mighty good. Into the cart along with a bag of salted fried tortilla chips for dipping. Ben and Jerry’s. I’m out of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia Ice Cream. Never mind I have three other flavors of ice cream in the freezer. I don’t have that one.
It goes this way every week. If Armageddon came, assuming no loss of electrical power, Mark and I could easily subsist quite nicely on what is in my freezer, refrigerator and pantry for at least two years. By the way, here’s what I had for a snack when I got home: the Wensleydale, some salami and a few of those cunning white radishes dipped in sea salt. Delicious!
I know I have a problem, but it tastes so good.